


You've Got Mail

by CallingCinderella



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cats, Fluff, M/M, Mailmen, My First AO3 Post, idk what else to tag, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 02:30:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4042360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallingCinderella/pseuds/CallingCinderella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Alfred F. Jones sees tall-white-haired-male-with-cute-big-nose-and-a-scarf-in-summer is on June 2nd, awaiting his Captain America action figure. Instead, he gets four bills and a parking ticket.</p><p>Mailman Au!<br/>Non-beta'd, sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You've Got Mail

**Author's Note:**

> Aaahhhh first fic on AO3! Have a 1am drabble ;D

The first time Alfred F. Jones sees tall-white-haired-male-with-cute-big-nose-and-a-scarf-in-summer is on June 2nd, awaiting his Captain America action figure. Instead, he gets four bills and a parking ticket.

The second time he sees tall-white-haired-male-with-cute-big-nose-and-a-scarf-in-summer is when he actually receives his action figure, except he'd forgotten all about it. He leans in close as the mailman explains when it was ordered, by who, how much and that, yes, it was for 21 Albert Street. It's the first time Alfred realises that tall-white-haired-male-with-cute-big-nose-and-a-scarf-in-summer actually has other human things too, like big, violet eyes, a soft spoken voice with an odd lilt to it and big, calloused hands.

It's on the third visit, when Alfred wakes up to knocking on his door and opens the door half dressed, senses high after almost faceplanting down the stairs that he realises tall-white-haired-blah-blah-blah has an accent, not just a funny voice. He mentions it and feels a thrum go through him when he sees lips twitch at the corner, almost as if there might be a smile. He rejoices later that day, laying on the sofa and recalling how he'd been told that the other was originally from Russia. Russia was a big country, he was told and he found it funy because so was the other. His own taste of a big friendly giant, his very own bfg to think about once the days got harder, when money got tighter.

It gets to the eighth visit before he gets a name to tape to the gorgeous face keeping his dreams sweet. "Eye-van," he hums out, only to laugh as his bfg's brows knit together in obvious distaste.  
"Eeevahn," he was corrected, and he felt something twist and turn in his stomach, moving his own lips to try and get the other's name right.

On the twentieth visit, Alfred gifts the Russian with a coffee and in return he gets three bills, two advertisements and a lost cat poster. He almost throws the poster away, but he notices that there's a name he recognises, and reads it. "You lost your cat?," he whispers, reaching over to pat the other's broad back. He isn't sure if he's allowed to comfort his mailman, but surely it's not as bad as the other seeing him half naked, with a hangover or with two coffee mugs and flushed cheeks. For the first time he sees a small smile from the Russian, and he vows to make it so he sees it again.

When it comes to the twenty fifth visit, Ivan is slightly annoyed at having delivered mail to Alfred three times in one day. He questions how one person can have so much mail - Alfred doesn't mention how he bought random crap to keep the other coming.

He expects the twenty sixth visit to be soon, so he waits at the door step with baited breath, holding something in his arms that he knows will cheer up his Russian. His disappointment at opening the door to a short, bespectacled man handing him his mail isn't hidden at all, neither is the wary look the new mailman gives the ball of fur in Alfred's arms. He sighs, almost slamming the door and immediately regretting it as the cat hissed, scratched him up and ran away. He doesn't even like cats, he's more of a dog person, but he spent three days searching and getting word out to find Ivan's cat. He's too scared to call, and so he keeps the kitty for now, takes care of him and affectionately nickname him Twinkie - he can't pronounce the felines actual name.

On the fated twenty sixth meeting, it isn't a meeting at all. He's sat on his sofa, layed out leisurely, Twinkie in his lap and phone in his hand. He breathes out, calming himself, but instantly sits up as he hears a voice on the other hand, hissing as Twinkie reacts to the sudden movement. "Cat," he half informs, half whines, looking down at the fresh scratches down his thigh. 

The twenty seventh encounter is special, he's prepared for the other, dressed in his best jeans - they make his butt look bootylicious and he's more than willing to twist and bend around the other's schedule of "I'll pick him up at 8 am sharp." He gets giddy thinking about the other in his home again, so much so that he neglects to hear the rasping of knuckles on the door. Instead, Twinkie nudges the door open and nuzzled at Ivan's leg, purring contently. Alfred's startled by strong arms wrapping around him, looking up at white hair and feels his heart stop, eyes wide.  
"Thank you for finding him," is what Ivan says, but what Alfred hears is, 'thanks for inviting me back.' He wastes no more time in hugging the elder back, arms wrapping around his neck and teasingly replies, "I did it for me. I'm catnapping Twinkie."

By the thirty fifth visit, he starts to realise Ivan hasn't been a mailman since the twenty fifth, but he doesn't question the visits or the random papers that act as an excuse. Sometimes Twinkie comes with Ivan and doesn't leave with him and he's sure he's going crazy because he feels light headed, finds himself sighing all the time and he's actually starting to like cats.

When it came to the fourty ninth, he casually lets slip that fifty is his favourite number and their next hangout session is technically their fiftieth time together. Ivan looks disturbed and so the American coughs awarkwardly and looks away, wondering how to defend himself. He's surprised when his hand is suddenly grasped, almost dropping his coffee mugs at the, "I'm happy I counted right," that fell from upturned lips. He blinks, then flushes, matching Ivan's smile with his own.

When it came to the fiftieth meeting, it's the same day, only it's in the evening. There's a knock at the door and an accented, "Fredka has mail." He opens the door with a grin, thoroughly pleased as the corny joke only to pause and stare at the ribbon in ivan's hair. Bless, he looked like he just came from a children's party where he was forced to play dress up, "What do I have?"  
"My heart."  
His fiftieth is his favourite meeting, because that's the last they had - they haven't parted since.


End file.
